


Metanoia

by nervecore



Category: NCT (Band), NCT Dream
Genre: M/M, im not sorry, read at ur own risk oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 07:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervecore/pseuds/nervecore
Summary: ❝ Metanoia (noun.) - the journey of changing someone’s mind; heart; self; or way of life. ❞





	Metanoia

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on @neogotmymind on tumblr (the blog might be deleted at some point)

The burning feeling embraced the boy on the floor quietly, once again. He got his knees closer to his body, hugging them, soft sobs escaping his lips. As cold as it was on the ground, the constant hot feeling of being still alive was eating him inside. You could run over him with a train, it would have hurt less than what he was feeling right now. Maybe he felt too much? Maybe he really threw himself into the lion’s mouth, without knowing and now that was killing him. He thought that ending what he called love for a long time and going back to being straingers would make him feel a lot happier, but right now, he felt put through hell even more than when he heard his name being called in that angry voice by that specific person. He wished so many times to unmeet the one who made him suffer, but then he couldn’t just let go. And it was killing him. He had his heart broken in so many pieces and every time he finished to glue them back, it was stepped on one more time. But the heart is the last one to leave the fight, right? The fight for someone who actually isn’t right for you at all. He broke all his rules for that one person and now? The thought that he gave his all and got just suffering in exchange was killing him. But what made the emptiness in his stomach to worsen was that he missed being broken like that, and not how he was now.

He finally picked himself up from the floor, still sobbing lightly and stomped his feet in the same rhythm of the rain which was pouring outside, clouds crying for the miserable state the boy was in. It been raining almost without break the past few days, weeks, even months. Might be only a coincidence, but Jaemin never felt more understood by the nature until now. He dropped his body which felt too heavy for himself, in the bed and pulled the sheets over him, still being able to feel the sensation of those arms wrapped around him and smell the heavenly scent, he once was aroused in happiness by. Even if all the cuddle sessions and all these usually happened after many other things.

And suddenly, the boy started crying loudly again, for God knows which time already, in that day, week, month. All these good memories, being overflowed by the bad ones, but still finding peace in them, in a really disturbing way. It spooked him out for the past time and only he knows how many times he actually dialed that number, unknowningly just to hear that voice and how he just ended up destroying himself even more.

But he had to act like he didn’t care since they broke up. Because it was his idea after all and he was just a fool. And just made him to have even more feelings for the boy he was so in love with. He adored him. He was the apple of his eye. He would throw himself at the boy’s feet any day if that meant he would be taken back. All the pain and lies meant nothing, he just wanted to be hugged by his lover once more. He knew he never was loved, he knew. Really well. He saw it. He was aware of the fact that his loved one was cheating on him with someone it was promised he won’t. Just suddenly, it didn’t matter at all. He wanted to be lied to one more time. He wanted to hear that fake ‘I love you’ again. He just wanted to be used again as a source of comfort, if it meant he could feel better.

It would sound so fucked up and exaggerated for people, but no one could know through what was someone going, until they get played like that. The feelings were getting so noisy, the touch of everything amplified and the screams of help while crying more messed up. The darkness would just kill you alive and you would just walk around like a corpse, feeling too empty and feeling too full of emotions at the same time. It was an awful moment in your life. That was what Jaemin was feeling for some time already. He was teared apart and he was tearing himself apart even more. He didn’t know if he would survive until the next day. He didn’t know if he would end his pain or not. He didn’t know if the pain would kill him or if he would just get weak enough just to throw himself off of a building.

But everyday, he kept waking up, being alive. And that was bothering him so much. He was alive, but he felt dead for already too long. He was breathing, but he felt like he drowned long ago. He felt his body so heavy, but he was so skinny. Everything was upside down. And it got him thinking a lot of times: did he want to continue to live like this?

No. Of course not. But what could he do? Call him? And tell him he misses the days when they were together? It would be fucking stupid. His past lover was now happy, with the one he always loved. But he wanted to call him. He wanted to tell him how much he broke him. And how he, Mark, knew so damn well what was he doing to the poor boy. Jaemin just wanted to slap him and ask him why did he do that to him. Why did he find pleasure in hurting someone like this? He felt so… useless. Worthless. And Mark? He had no idea about this, but why would he? Why would he care? He never did in the first place. His soul wouldn’t feel at peace not even after he would yell theses things through the phone to him. So it had no sense to do that.

Then what could make him feel at ease? He had just one idea about this and it went through his mind everytime he woke up in the morning, everytime he forced himself to eat, every 11:11 wish was about that and everytime he fell asleep, he was thinking about that specific idea of… taking his life. Of leaving his problems in the past and regain his peacefulness he once had.

But a thought always struck to him: his life is actually not his. Taking it would make others suffer. But others who, he asked himself. His family? Yeah, most probably. They would be just sad and move on at some point, so he didn’t really ponder about them. Mark? Wouldn’t care less. His other friends? He didn’t answer their phone calls and messages in a while. They probably moved on already, found new friends and considered him dead. So there was that: no one would suffer after he would die, why not trying?

His daily thoughts, besides how much he wanted to cry and destroy the things around him.

His life meant nothing to the planet at this point, he was another useless piece of crap in this world full of happy people, with a job and caring people around them. He was one of them at some point and damn, how much he would want to go back to that. Laughing with his friends, while camping in the forest nearby. Telling stories, while eating marshmallows and having his head leaned on his loved one’s shoulder. Hanging out regularly and having so much fun, nothing mattered anymore. Where did this all go? In just some seconds, everything fell apart and the darkness in his head was waiting quietly for him to fall apart as well.

After he shifted in his messy bed for the nth time, he sat up and looked around the dark room and then through the window at the pouring outside. He thought he heard also thunderstorms. He got up from his bed and walked towards the window, looking down to the peopel hurriedly going into spots to have cover or driving as safe as possible to arrive home, since it was a hell of a storm outside. Jaemin wanted to go out and let the rain soak him wet, while jumping in puddles, trying to forget. Dancing ballet under the biggest tree in the park nearby and for the last time, being happy. There was such a difference between him and the others now, but he liked it from some point of view. So he decided.

He looked for some clean clothes in his closet and for the first time in weeks, he made himself look decent in front of a mirror. He was surprised of seeing himself looking quite good. He was used with him looking almost dead, that he forgot how he usually looked after his break up with Mark. He liked it, he really did, somewhere deep down. So his lips formed a little smile and then went back to his straight face. He exited his bathroom and put on his shoes, inhaling deeply, while his hand reached out for the doorknob. He exhaled and then opened it, walking out of his apartment and locking the door after him.

He walked down the stairs and then wandered a bit at the main door of the block, asking himself if he really wanted to go out of the house after so much time spent inside. But he told himself 'yes’ and pushed the door, walking into the rain, the raindrops hitting the boy’s brown hair, his skin, his clothes. He looked up at the sky, a tingling feeling awkening inside him. He hugged himself a bit to heat himself up, as the rain already soaked all his clothes and his hair was already sticked to his forehead, but he started walking in the rain, having no exact route, but his eyes scanned all the surrondings, taking in the beautiful image of the nature as it was pouring so hard. Admiring the lights of the city. The tingling feeling was rising every time. At every step. In every second.

As he was walking, he looked around and saw a park so he waited, looking both ways and the crossed the street to it, his lips forming a little smile as he admired every piece of the scenery, starting to wander and jumping in every puddle his eyes would land on, his smile growing bigger and bigger, finally feeling something more than being numb from crying and his heart aching for someone he coul never have again. He even started giggling like a small kid and starting to dance in the middle of the whole park, letting the rain to take him all.

He was in a state of euphoria and wanted to even sing, enjoy this moment and feel it, in every inch of his skin. He wanted to feel this alive again and forever. It was such an… unbelieveable emotion. It was always so far away from him and he finally had it in his hands. He never wanted to let it slip again, he couldn’t go another situation like this.

He suddenly stopped and looked at the sky, tears forming in his eyes once again, with a smile still on his lips and hes started screaming. He started letting it out, yelling every word he ever wanted to say to Mark, how he hurt him endlessly, how he made him go through things he isn’t proud of, how he is afraid almost all the time to look at himself in the mirror, because he had the fear to see what Mark have seen at him: not enough. He did it with all his pieces of his heart, which maybe was healing now and he could move on from this episode from his life.

He didn’t even know when he dropped on his knees, crying like there was no tomorrow, his hands covering his face. He wasn’t sad or numb. He was relieved to some extent and it made him cry because he finally let it out, after a lot of time… He finally did let it out.

But it still wasn’t enough and it was time to finally be enough. For once. Just for once. He brought all his remained strength from his petite body and started to head to the place, the only place he went to in the last few weeks and always pondered about his decision on letting it out. Where he could always do it, but stopped himself every time. It was the right time.

And even the world knew it had to come. Once.

He didn’t realise when he was already in the elevator, sokaed wet from staying so much into the rain, shivering really bad and feeling all the cold creeping into his skin and deeper. He had to resist some more, he couldn’t pass out from this start of hypothermia. He had first to do it. The elevator stopped and he exited it, walking up one more set of stairs, hugging himself and closing his eyes in front of the door, telling himself to breathe in and out. It was simple. And it could change his life and make everyone realise something.

That these kind of shit hurt. And you should never play with someone’s heart.

So he did it.

He opened that damn door and started running on the rooftop of the block of apartments where he lived in, jumping from the tall building, falling at the same time with the rain. One single tear made its appearence on the boy’s cheek as he waited for the contact with the ground. It was a change. Maybe not for him, but it will make people regret whatever shit they did and that words hurt; using someone hurt; cheating hurt; and not telling someone why they left them hurt.

Metanoia is a beautiful word… Poeple or things makes other people go through it and make them aware of things. But sometimes the ways are harsh, requiring someone to commit something they actually don’t want, just because bad people shattered them. How many people have to die more by this awful thing called 'suicide’, until people realise things they do hurt? How many sad metanoias do this world still need?


End file.
